


Leaving the Nest

by Pouncer



Category: Greek and Roman Mythology
Genre: Gen, Yuletide 2012
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-12-24
Updated: 2012-12-24
Packaged: 2017-11-22 04:51:20
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,445
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/606010
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Pouncer/pseuds/Pouncer
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In those days, Ariadne often ran wild around the palace at Knossos, learning the twists and turns and secret ways of the labyrinth.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Leaving the Nest

**Author's Note:**

  * For [emilyenrose](https://archiveofourown.org/users/emilyenrose/gifts).



In those days, Ariadne often ran wild around the palace at Knossos, learning the twists and turns and secret ways of the labyrinth. Her mother Pasiphaë was occupied with Ariadne's younger brothers and sister, and Ariadne, who was clever, would escape the nursery to explore. 

The top of her head reached her father the King's thigh when she stood beside him, so she was grown enough not to need supervision like the babies. She heard her name being called from a distance, but ignored it. Lessons were not nearly as fun as searching out new delights.

The morning sun burned hot in the sky, Helios' chariot racing to the summit of its climb, as Ariadne wandered through a courtyard. Flowers bloomed in beds made of stone, with bees flying from one to another. Ariadne amused herself by closing her eyes, turning in circles, and trying to name the first flower she encountered by scent.

Rosemary was easy to guess, and poppy and thyme. Daisies smelled sharp, but then Ariadne barked her shin into stone and exclaimed in hurt.

"I wondered how long it would be before that happened." 

Ariadne opened her eyes and looked around to find a boy, older than her, standing in shadow.

"Who are you?" she asked with the confidence due a princess and granddaughter of Zeus. 

"Icarus," the boy replied, as if she should know him by name. "Are you trying to find your way through the labyrinth?" he asked.

Ariadne smiled, because it was one of her life's ambitions to locate the center of the maze, the place where her half-brother the Minotaur was confined. At night, when she tried to fall asleep, his roars pierced the silence, long rumbling cries that made her baby brothers and sister start to weep. Ariadne wanted to know what the Minotaur looked like, what he felt that caused him to bellow into the dark. 

"Do you know how to navigate the corridors?" she asked.

Icarus moved closer, nodded, then whispered, "My father built it."

Oh! So he was the son of Daedelus, who made such enchanting toys. Dolls with arms and legs that bent just like hers and mouths that opened and closed, bulls on wheels, falcons with wings that flapped. 

"I like to play with the toys he makes," Ariadne confided. 

"So do I," Icarus said, and they smiled at each other in perfect accord.

* * *

Following that first meeting, Ariadne would often slip away from her nursemaid after eating her breakfast of bread smeared with soft cheese and honey. She ran through the rooms of scribes who tallied the harvest, counting how many pithoi of grain and olive oil and wine rested in the store rooms. She danced around the trains of servants carrying trays for her father's court to feast upon, crept through audience rooms, and paused for a moment to pay honor at the altar of Poseidon.

Icarus waited for her at the place where the corridors started to turn inward on themselves, spiraling ever deeper with hidden crossings and cunning blind alleys. Just a few moons ago, the tribute had arrived from Athens and been sent to her brother. The ceremony before the seven boys and seven girls had gone to meet their fate was solemn and martial. It proved her father the most powerful King in the world, for who else could demand beloved sons and daughters of a city for such a terrible end, and have that demand be fulfilled?

Ariadne and Icarus had talked about the Minotaur, about how they would approach his lair and hide, observing until they could determine if it would be safe to venture closer. Ariadne thought she would be safe because they shared a mother, although Icarus doubted it. 

But first they had to decipher the secrets of the labyrinth.

* * *

Some days they played in a courtyard, out of the way and full of space to run and jump and discover new ways to toss a ball and hoop. Icarus always wanted to heave the ball higher, see how far he could roll the hoop. Ariadne mostly liked to concentrate on precision, hitting a spot over and over again, but then Icarus would taunt her and they both would attempt a new mark.

Other days they climbed stairs to the roof, raced to the north edge of the palace and watched the ships leave harbor or return with full holds and sails bellowing. They pretended to be heroes -- Heracles and Jason and Orion -- and Ariadne insisted that she could go on adventures too. 

"Just because women know how to spin and weave, and bear children, doesn't mean we have to be secluded at home," she said, temper rising as Icarus told her the stories didn't have any girls. She was formidable enough in her anger to get him to consent that Artemis and Athena were worthy goddesses, and that Demeter's power nearly ruined the world when her grief over her missing daughter blighted the fields.

"Hephaestus is my favorite, though," Icarus said, and wouldn't be swayed. "Athena herself taught my father his skills, but he relies on a smith's knowledge for his work."

"Will you show me?" Ariadne asked, attention caught.

Icarus refused at first, saying his father's workroom mustn't be disturbed, but Ariadne could be tenacious with her will. She didn't ask again directly, but started mentioning how inventive her newest toy was, how much Daedelus' latest great creation had delighted the court when presented. She wondered how things were made, what mysteries lay behind their function.

And eventually, as she had known he would, Icarus led her to his father's rooms. Up flight after flight of stairs, beyond the storerooms and accounting chambers and living quarters. It was a vast space, filled with tools and tables and amphorae, a giant fireplace at one end. Ariadne saw dolls lining a shelf, each slightly different until the final one, which was nearly identical to one of her own. She saw clay tablets, littered with symbols and drawings. Bronze bowls held liquids, and there was a sack of feathers leaning against a column. 

"Papa?" Icarus called.

From amid the clutter, a figure straightened. "Icarus? Where have you been?"

"Playing, papa." Icarus took Ariadne by the hand and led her forward. "I brought a friend to meet you."

Ariadne stared up at Daedelus and said with confidence, "I like the toys you make."

A fleeting expression passed over Daedelus' face, too quick for her to decipher. "You are the King's daughter," he said. 

"Yes. Ariadne." She held out a hand, as she had seen her mother do when emissaries arrived at court. 

Daedelus touched his fingers to hers, darting forward for an instant before retreating. "I must finish this project," he told Icarus. "Be quiet and don't disturb me."

"Yes, papa," Icarus said, and took Ariadne over to the far wall. 

They spent the afternoon there, digging through piles of marvels, and found one treasure after another.

Ariadne crept back to Deadelus before she left, and saw him planing wood to a narrow strip, bending it to fit a frame. The other side held leather bands and was daubed in places with wax. 

She stumbled over one of the cats as she navigated through a store room, and petted its fur, sleek and soft, as she wondered what contraption Daedelus would unveil next.

* * *

Ariadne couldn't always escape from the nursery, and one day she was being taught her letters when a hue and cry arose from the edge of the palace.

Soldiers marched past the nursery, double-time and jangling with their bronze armor and swords.

Her mother snatched Ariadne from her stool, and held her close as she walked over to the door and peered out. Ariadne squirmed, wanting to see for herself, but her mother didn't let go.

A servant arrived, out of breath. "Oh my Queen," he said, "you must tend to the King, for he is in a terrible state. Daedelus has flown."

"Flown?" the Queen asked. "Did he climb down the outer walls? What about the guards?"

"No, my lady," the servant said. "He and his son took up great sets of wings, and _flew_ from the roof."

Ariadne's imagination sparked. She wiggled free of her mother's grasp, sped through the shortest route to the north wall, and burst into the open air facing the harbor. 

The sun's reflection off the water was so brilliant that Ariadne's vision was dazzled. She pivoted her head, seeking a glimpse of her friend.

Just above the horizon she saw two figures, larger than birds, sailing on currents of wind. 

Who would dare venture with her to the center of the labyrinth now?

**Author's Note:**

> Note: I consulted Robert Grave's version of the Greek myths for this, along with Wikipedia on Minoan civilization.


End file.
